


forget

by angelsprunch



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, M/M, but instead there's this, i was gonna base this off a song, richie is sad, stan is hurting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsprunch/pseuds/angelsprunch
Summary: stan wants to forget, but richie doesn't want to be forgotten





	forget

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to take a small break from the loser analysis fics and i've only written one stozier fic and i don't know how i slept on my otp like that

In high school, the losers drifted. Sometimes they’d see each other in the hallways, but being around each other made them all ache. Richie would see his friends and he knew that it was painful when they all hung out, but he missed them. He was beginning to forget the summers they spent together and why they didn’t really talk anymore. Even worse, he was worried that they were beginning to forget him. Richie’s best friends hardly even looked at him in the hallways anymore and he had to pretend that it didn’t hurt. There was a scar on his hand that matched the others and he wondered if one day that would be all they had of each other. Sometimes Richie couldn’t even remember where the scar came from and other nights he’d wake up in a cold sweat, unable to remember what the dream was but knowing it was bad.

 

Stan, on the other hand, was quick to distance himself from everyone. Everytime he saw any of the losers it brought back painful memories. He could feel jaws on his face or hear the chants of all the dead children. He carried his bird book around more often and it became common for other people to hear Stan mumbling the names of birds under his breath. He would anxiously tap his foot while he organized whatever was in front of him and then reorganized it. One day some kid tried to take Stan’s red pen from his organized pile and Stan simply glared at him until the pen was returned to it’s original place. He had to start over, though, because now the entire system was just wrong.

 

Sometimes the others would meet up, but never all together. It would be in groups no larger than three, but it was rare that Richie was included. The others seemed to be fully forgetting him first and while Richie didn’t blame them, it didn’t help the ache in his heart when they glanced over him in the hallways. Stan would sometimes let his gaze linger on Richie but it hurt too much to acknowledge what he remembered so he continued to distance himself. He ignored his calls from Bill and Mike’s invites to come over. It was all just too much and Stan simply wanted to forget. The others seemed to be moving past that summer and part of Stan was jealous that his friends could just move on while he was plagued by all of this. He kept reciting bird names. Richie would sometimes listen.

 

Listening to Stan recite the names of birds calmed him down so he conveniently sat beside him in all the classes they shared. When he got antsy during class he would throw something at Stan or do anything to distract the boy and try to mess up his order which would result in him mumbling under his breath. Richie started writing down what he heard and he’d go to the library to look up some of the birds. Sometimes he was lucky enough to spell them right and he’d actually find a picture of a bird. He’d always get a copy of the picture and hold onto it. He’d hang it in his room and when everything at home became too much, he’d look at the picture and hear Stan saying it’s name in his head. It would make everything a little bit more manageable.

 

As much as Stan despised his system getting interrupted, he was able to recognize that him listing off bird names was enough to help Richie behave in class. Or, mostly behave. There would still be the occasional outburst, but he seemed to have a much easier time when he sat beside Stan. It hurt but he would sometimes write down the names of his birds in a book and he saved it. He’d save the lists and he didn’t know why. Maybe he’d show them to Richie one day, but that seemed too painful. Stan didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to talk to the losers again. Still, he felt some responsibility for Richie. He knew that Richie’s biggest fear was coming true, but he was paralyzed. Stan couldn’t fix it without putting himself in jeopardy. Oftentimes he’d lie awake at night and wonder which was better. Should he save Richie or save himself? He never could come up with a real answer so he lived in a limbo of trying to balance the two.

 

There as a party as school came to a close. Everyone in the graduating class was invited and most of them attended. All of the losers were there and Stan spotted them all doing different things, but none of them were together. He didn’t expect them to be. Stan knew that they wouldn’t be pulled together again until that evil monster came back. Even then, he had a feeling that they wouldn’t all be together. He spied Richie in the kitchen making jokes and he could hear the voices he was using, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him. Stan bit his lip and decided that maybe he could go talk to Richie. It was a party, he could talk to anyone. Stan just hoped that this didn’t hurt. 

 

Richie perked up when Stan walked towards him and the brunet thrust a red solo cup into the other’s hands. Richie looked at it confused before Stan pointed to the bottles on the table. “You always brag about how great you are at this shit. Show me what you’re made of, Tozier.” he mumbled, leaning against the counter as he watched Richie. A genuine smile spread across the boy’s face as he began working. “Glad to see you’re finally coming around, mate. Who pulled that giant stick out of your ass, huh?” Richie retorted as he handed the cup back to Stan. It was now full and smelled a little bit like gummy bears. He made a face before taking a sip. It burned going down, but overall it wasn’t bad. 

 

The two sat there for a few moments and Richie cracked a few jokes while Stan rolled his eyes. After a while, Stan started to feel light and the music was giving him a headache. He nudged Richie with his elbow and pointed outside to which Richie simply nodded as he followed Stan to the front porch. Once they were outside, Richie pulled out a cigarette while Stan leaned against the house. He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew that he’d only have flashbacks to that summer if he did. Instead, Stan stared at Richie. “Why don’t any of you talk to me anymore?” he asked, lighting his cigarette.

 

“I don’t talk to any of them.”

 

“None of you talk to me.”

 

“They’re forgetting…”

 

“Forgetting what? Me? I thought we were friends.”

 

“You’re forgetting, too.”

 

“I want to forget that it hurts.”

 

“You will. One day.”

 

“Stan, I miss you. We were so close. I thought… I thought we had something.”

 

“Richie, it’s better if you forget.”

 

“I don’t want to forget you.”

 

Stan stared at his friend with a frown before he leaned forward. In his drunken state it turned into a stumble and Richie caught him. The two were close now and Stan was breathing in the smoke from Richie’s cigarette. With a grimace, he pulled the cigarette from the other boy’s mouth. He didn’t throw it or stub it out, though. He held it away from them and brushed his lips against Richie’s. It was hardly a kiss and he could feel Richie’s hands on his cheeks as he tried to get more, but Stan moved away. He gently put the cigarette back in Richie’s mouth and squeezed his hand. “You’ll forget that, too.”


End file.
